


Ego Te Absolvo

by Telaryn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blasphemy, Canonical Character Death, Dubious Consent, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Priest Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When pulling Nate out of a local dive bar, Father Paul takes him to St. Nicholas in an effort to force him back from the edge of his desperation.  It does *not* go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ego Te Absolvo

  
He told himself it was for Maggie. Dragging Nate out of one of the worst dives in South Los Angeles after everything that had happened was only going to pile more grief on a situation already choked with it. Sam was dead. And instead of the tragedy bringing Nate and Maggie together in their shared sorrow, it was blowing their already fragile relationship to pieces.

Frog marching Nate out of the bar while one half of the patrons laughed at him and the other half tried to pretend they were invisible might have been for Maggie. Taking him to St. Nicholas – even under the pretext of picking up some paperwork he’d forgotten – was his own sadistic impulse at work.

Nate could see it too, even blind drunk. “Playing peacemaker’s not going to work this time, Paul,” he said once the latter had returned from his office. “The big guy and I are done with each other for good.” He was swaying on his feet – only his hands gripping the top of the back pew seemed to be keeping him upright.

“Nate…”

His friend’s grin had a nasty edge to it. “Your God is a selfish, bloodthirsty son of a bitch.”

Paul had known Nathan Ford virtually his entire life, so he knew when he was being baited. _You need to hurt somebody,_ he thought. So much anger, so much heat – it was either going to destroy everything in its path, or turn inward and consume Nate completely. _And you don’t really care which it is, do you?_ he thought.

“I’m not going to do this with you, Nate,” he said finally. “I promised Maggie I’d bring you home safe, and that’s what I’m going to do.” He started to walk past him, but Nate grabbed his upper arm pulling him back.

“What if I don’t want to go?” His voice was low and thick with emotion. Their eyes met, and Paul swallowed at what he saw in the dark blue depths. “I can’t be saved, Paul. Maggie means well, but I’m only going to hurt her.”

“You…you don’t know that,” Paul stammered, his voice breaking. “Everybody can be saved, Nate.”

The two friends stared at each other unmoving, silence filling the space between them. Paul’s pulse was beating desperately fast by the time Nate curled his arm – pulling him in close enough that the smell of his body filled the priest’s nostrils; sweat and smoke and cheap, stale liquor mingled together. It was every scent Paul’s brain had ever associated with desperation and death piled on top of each other, and seeing this man whose life had been so closely intertwined with his at the heart of it was almost more pain than he could stand. “Nate…”

They were too close now, their bodies separated by mere inches. Paul realized that he couldn’t look away from the horrible, creeping emptiness clouding Nate’s expression even if he’d wanted to. “Your God doesn’t want me anymore.” Nate’s words were low and venomous, but before Paul could even start putting together a reasonable response to the statement, Nate leaned the rest of the way in and kissed him.

Stunned, Paul started to pull away from his friend, but Nate hooked his free hand behind the priest’s neck, squeezing hard to hold him still.

Paul hadn’t taken his vows in ignorance. He’d known precisely what he was giving up the day he promised God and Holy Mother Church that he would no longer give in to the temptations of the flesh, and he could count on one hand the number of times he’d regretted his choice. _Now, though…_ Paul knew what he needed to do. His friend was in crisis – he needed to be strong for Nate, take him in hand and show him God’s purpose in all this tragedy.

The problem was that Nate clearly had other things on his mind…and he was a hell of a kisser.

“We can’t do this,” he murmured when their lips finally parted. “Nate, please…” He didn’t try to pull away though, and instead of answering, Nate kissed him again. This time Paul felt himself being urged backwards – Nate walked them both a dozen steps until he had Paul pinned full length between his own body and the front of the confessional.

“Let me kneel before you and confess my sins, Father,” Nate said; his breath hot against Paul’s ear as he ran his tongue across the soft, tender skin below the curve of the priest’s jaw. “Give me this one thing, Paul – this one small thing before Hell takes me for good.”

Somehow they ended up in the confessional itself; Paul in his usual place on the bench seat, Nate kneeling on the floor between his legs. The scene went against everything he’d ever been taught about right and wrong, sin and absolution, and even so Paul knew as Nate began undoing his slacks that if he’d been given one final chance to change his mind he probably couldn’t have said the words.

Nate’s grip on his cock as he leaned in was warm and firm; Paul swallowed hard as he lowered his mouth to the head.

“Bless me, Father.” Nate murmured. He penetrated the slit with the tip of his tongue then, rolling a thread of pre-come into his mouth. Paul shivered, pressing his fists against his eyes as impossible sensations overwhelmed him. Nate’s breath was hot against his exposed skin. Everything was too hot in the small, close cubicle; Paul’s clothes were starting to stick uncomfortably to his body.

“I have sinned.” Nate continued, opening his mouth and drawing Paul’s cock in between his lips and across his tongue. Paul groaned, letting his head fall back against the wood paneling – momentarily heedless of the danger of somebody hearing them.

A lifetime ago, when they were in school together, a townie had called Nate a “fucking cocksucker”. Paul had been stunned when the kid with the pure blood Irish temper and the hair trigger had only smiled at the insult and walked away from the fight. “I figured you would have taken his head off,” Paul had exclaimed once they were safely out of earshot.

That night in their dorm room, Nate had shown him exactly why the phrase had amused rather than enraged him. Paul had never forgotten the encounter, even though he’d dutifully confessed it, done his penance, and received absolution for it the very next day.

He’d always assumed Nate had done the same, but if the insistent, pleasurable tugging on his shaft was any indication, his friend not only had never confessed his sin – he’d spent some considerable time perfecting his technique. “God, Nate…” He was drowning in the damp, close heat now; a fire was spiraling up through his belly, licking out along his nerves to the very tips of his fingers and toes.

Nate’s hands tightened on his thighs, holding him steady as Paul began to shudder uncontrollably in the grip of his building orgasm. Paul responded almost instinctively, resting his right hand on Nate’s head, smoothing his curls over and over again obsessively as his body began to arch and twist against the confines of the booth and Nate’s hands. “Nate…please…” He couldn’t breathe right…couldn’t think…he was helpless until Nate chose to take him that last final inch.

Later, once they were done, Paul would only dimly remember fisting his hand in Nate’s hair – the half-dozen brutally hard thrust of his hips as he took control back and fucked Nate’s mouth as hard as he could. What he _would_ remember in clear, perfect detail, was the moment just after that, the moment when time seemed to stop for both of them – his hoarse cry of relief seeming to echo back at them from every direction, and the feel of Nate milking every last drop of come he could get from his cock.

Paul had no idea how long he stayed slumped against his seat, Nate looking up at him calmly from his place between Paul’s legs. “Give…give me a moment…” he stammered finally, finding the strength to sit up straighter by sheer force of will.

“Paul,” Nate began – looking uncertain, but Paul shook his head.

“No.” Reassured that his voice was suddenly stronger, steadier, he pressed on. “Please, Nate – if you’ve ever given a damn about me, about our friendship, I need you to step out and _give me a moment_.”

Nate’s expression was serious and a little sad as he pushed to his feet. “I do care, Paul. I’ve always cared.” He stepped back through the partly open door; no trace of the desperate, angry drunk remained.

He couldn’t stop shaking. It took Paul an impossibly long time to pull himself together, long enough that his brain had started to think back over the act by the time he was physically ready to step out into the world again. _You wanted that to happen._ All things being equal, Paul had to believe that he would have been able to stop Nate’s advances…if he’d really wanted to. They’d been together that one night in college after all, and sitting alone in the confessional Paul could finally admit that he’d _always_ wanted his friend “in that way” – ever since they’d first learned that men could be with each other sexually.

It didn’t change what had happened, or the fact that he’d vowed to forsake all pleasures of earthly flesh when he’d become a priest. It did help him make some measure of peace with his own responsibility for what had happened.

A part of him was surprised to find Nate still waiting for him in the sanctuary. “I called a cab,” he said quietly, turning to face Paul. “Under the circumstances, it seemed…” His voice trailed off, and he ducked his head briefly, studying his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Paul said. Nate looked up at him then – clearly startled by the unexpected apology. “I let myself imagine that this was okay, because it was a level where you would still let me in and I might be able to pull you back from the edge.” Nate opened his mouth to protest, but Paul shook his head. “Let me finish.” He drew a deep breath and pushed on. “If I forget my vows for even the most noble of reasons, I can’t save you – I can only destroy myself. They’re all I have, Nate.”

Silence stretched between them then, thick and heavy. Paul couldn’t begin to fathom what Nate was thinking; he kept silent, not wanting to risk tipping the balance either way. Finally, the gaze that had been so much a part of his life met his one last time.

“Ego te absolvo.” And without another word, Nate turned and left the church to wait for his ride home.


End file.
